Crypt of the shadowking - Mark Anthony [36]
Caledan laughed at the memory. "That was a good vintage, wasn't it? As I recall, the grand finale to that evening was when you sang Chultan war songs on the roof of one of the caravan wagons, then slipped and fell on your head."
Actually, Caledan," Tyveris rumbled, "that was a duet. And it was your head that I fell on when we hit the ground, not mine."
"Oh, that's right," Caledan said, wincing as the details came back to him. "But I don't really have time for wine now, Tyveris." Quickly, Caledan told Tyveris that the city's new ruler was their old nemesis, and about the notice Ravendas had posted that morning. Tyveris listened carefully, his face grave. When Caledan finished, he sighed deeply.
"Of course I'll help you free Ferret, Caledan," the big man said. "The gods know we all owe our lives to that little scoundrel a dozen times over. But there's one thing I think you don't understand. Didn't Estah tell you?"
“Tell me what?" Caledan asked.
"I gave up my sword more than five years ago," Tyveris said slowly. 'This is an abbey, dedicated to Oghma. Caledan, I'm a monk now, a loremaster of Oghma, not a warrior."
Caledan stared at the big man in amazement.
"I think we'd better go have that wine after all," Tyveris said, gripping Caledan's shoulder and steering him out of the entrance hall. Caledan could only nod dully. Seven years ago Tyveris had been the most fearless and ferocious swordsman Caledan had ever known. Now he was a… monk?
They spent the next hour talking intently in Tyveris's small, spare chamber, furnished only with a low bed, a chest, and a table with two chairs. A coarsely woven mat of rushes was the lone covering for the cold stone floor. The single window looked out over a garden, perfectly framing a small pear tree just coming into bloom. Tyveris had sent a young boy-an orphan and refugee from the city taken in by the abbey-for that bottle of wine, and it was every bit as delicious as Caledan remembered.
They spoke of old memories for a while, but finally, after a long silence, Tyveris explained what had led him to trade his sword for a loremaster's robe. "You remember how I came to these lands," he said, gazing out the window thoughtfully. 'The ships traveled from Waterdeep across the Shining Sea to my homeland, to the jungles of Chult. They promised much gold and glory to those young Tabaxi men and women who would come with them, to train with the sword and become mercenaries. Despite our parents' tears, both I and my sister went with the ships, leaving our homeland behind, never to return."
Caledan nodded. He recalled the familiar tale. "You lost your sister on that voyage, didn't you?" he asked gently.
A flicker of pain passed briefly across the big man's face. "The ship was crowded and filthy. Almost half of my people died of sickness before we reached the Sword Coast. Tali was one of them. That was when I vowed to become the greatest warrior I could, to make her spirit proud of me." He lifted his cup of wine, draining it to the bottom. They both knew the rest of the story. Tyveris and the other Chultans spent many years as mercenary fighters in the service of a wizard from Calimshan whom they could not escape. It was the Harpers-and Caledan-who had freed them. That was when Tyveris joined the Fellowship.
"But I was living a lie, Caledan. I realized that, after you left and the Fellowship disbanded. For a long time I had made your purposes mine, and that was enough to sustain me. But for the first time since I had left the jungles of Chult, I was faced with my own purposes, not another's. Killing held no true joy for me, and no glory. I realized that I could no longer honor Tali's spirit by acting as a warrior. Killing only mocked her death.
"That was when I found this place, the Abbey of Everard. The loremasters here let me work for them and sleep in their stable. Abbess Melisende herself taught me to read, and soon I learned